


Heart to Heart

by Mothia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Comfort/Angst, Emily/Tracer is kind of minor this is almost completely a pharmercy fic!, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Medication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Fluff, uhhhh that's about it lmk if i forgot something I suck at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothia/pseuds/Mothia
Summary: Ever since Overwatch fell apart, a cynical and tired Dr. Ziegler has worked her years away in the warzones of the Middle East, studiously avoiding a painful past. She has bottled fear, doubt, regret, and despair away in her heart, but when she meets the daughter of none other than captain Ana Amari, the good doctor may finally have to face her inner demons.





	1. Midnight Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I'm rather new to the site and fanfiction in general, so please be patient with me! I'll try my best to put any specific warnings in the notes. Feel free to yell at me if I forget anything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a mention of alcohol.

When Overwatch was finally disbanded, it left a gaping void in the foundation upon which most of its agents had lived on. The ones that could, returned home. The ones that couldn't disappeared into the hustle and bustle of ordinary life or mercenary work. Suddenly left with nowhere to go and nothing to do, the bearers of Overwatch's legacy faded from the world. Dr. Angela Ziegler was no different. With no home or family to return to, and nothing but her omnipresent research to work on, Angela was lost.

At first she moved to Oasis, at the request of its Ministries. The shining beacon of scientific ingenuity welcomed the world famous doctor with open arms. Angela had a spacious lab, the best equipment, and no shortage of educated peers and admirers. But Oasis was too busy, too bright, too front and center in the world stage. The people, the media, they were all too interested in things that Angela never wanted to think about ever again. So, she soon packed up and left. Besides, she could do more, save more lives out in the field. That's what she told herself, anyways. The doctor sequestered herself in the war-torn crisis areas of the world, and in time even she faded from the public eye.

 

* * *

 

Angela peered outside, quietly nursing a steaming cup of dark coffee. The morning air was cool; a pleasant reprieve before the melting heat of day. The view, though, was nothing spectacular. A jumble of canvas tents and equipment, painted with watery sunlight, clumped together near a dry riverbed on the outskirts of a now mostly abandoned city. Sun baked dirt and the occasional rock stretched from horizon to horizon. Occasionally, a truck might drive in or out of the city. There was nothing else. The coffee tasted like dirt.

Angela slept in a small tent, directly adjacent to the largest tent in the camp. The medical tent. Her job was simple. They’d bring her patients, people that were hurt and needed help, and she helped them. Soldiers, civilians, even omnics (she needed a proper mechanic to help with those), they all came to Angela. They came smelling like blood, and dust, and sweat and oil and gunpower and smoke. They kept her busy, and in short time the faces and actions and days all blurred and blended into a strange, flat existence.

Some days, nothing really happened. Those days were the worst, because when one has to sit in a warm, stuffy tent for hours and hours in the middle of a desert with nothing to do, one is prone to thinking. Thinking about things that were not pleasant to think about. Angela found ways to busy herself, fastidiously cleaning and recleaning her medbay, checking her equipment, arranging everything just so, and yet she always seemed to end up with too much time on her hands. On those days, the doctor was a little too fond of drink. Much like the coffee, the liquor tasted like dirt.

Angela awoke to the soft rustle of cloth. What was more immediately concerning was the very distinctive click of a weapon. She pried her eyes open, finding herself staring down the length of a gun, a rather large needle protruding from the end. A cyan triangle glowed down at her from the darkness. The needle gleamed faintly in its light.

“Good evening, Dr. Ziegler.” The voice was curious, slightly raspy and warm, but filtered. Mechanical.

Angela continued to stare at the gun pointed at her face and said nothing. Her eyes had adjusted enough for her to see the figure leaning over her cot. Pale fingers slipped under her pillow.

The figure huffed, shrugged, and turned away. It kept the dart trained firmly on Angela, though they did readjust their aim to her left leg. A part of Angela was oddly pleased about that; the face was not a very good place to inject anything into. A much bigger part of Angela was more concerned with undoing the safety on her pistol.

The figure paused, then turned and looked back down at the doctor. If a triangle could be disapproving, this was it. “Drop your gun, doctor.”

Angela glared into the mask. “I’ll drop mine if you drop yours.”

The intruder leaned closer. Angela couldn’t feel its breathing, which was oddly disturbing. “You,” it pointed at Angela’s chest with its free hand, “are going to cooperate.” It glanced idly at the dart gun. “Whether you want to or not. Now. Drop. The. Gun.”

Angela could feel the frustration burning in her chest. But, she dropped the gun on the floor.

“Keep your hands above the sheets.” The masked figure turned away again. It was inspecting Angela’s computer. Dark gloved fingers gently brushed the surface of the monitor as it hummed to life. The device bathed the small tent in a dim white light; dozens upon dozens of files and tabs cluttering its screen.

In the light Angela could finally see the other as more than a vaguely human looking black shape that was slightly blacker than the rest of the tent. There was little to discern about its features, as it was cloaked, masked, and hooded, but it stood with an almost proud, elegant air. A noble bearing that was quite strangely juxtaposed against the scuffed equipment and ragged clothing slung over its frame.

The intruder considered the screen for a moment, then smoothly reached down and clicked on a little orange tab. Overwatch Recall. Angela felt sick. She should have declined and deleted that as soon as she got it. The figure glanced at her. “Are you going to accept it?”

Angela hissed. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

In a remarkably pleasant tone, the figure answered. “I am a bounty hunter.”

Angela bristled. “Here to collect? And what, sell the information on Overwatch to the highest bidder?”

She could almost hear the smile the bounty hunter’s voice. “Many would pay handsomely for you and what I have learned tonight, but no. I am content to leave you alone, this time.”

Angela stared into that glowing mask. Her voice was suddenly small. “Why?”

The bounty hunter stood and considered the doctor. “Let’s just say I have a great… interest in global matters. But back to the point. Are you going to accept it?”

Angela grit her teeth. “...No.”

It tilted its head. “And why not? You joined Overwatch once before.”

Angela had nothing to say. She could offer only sullen silence and a frosty glare.

It inclined its head slightly, accepting. “Good night, Dr. Ziegler.” And with that, it pulled the trigger. Before she could react, a dense sleep rushed into Angela’s mind, and the world faded to a pleasantly warm black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the entire fic written in a doc by the time my application to join Ao3 got through, so this was published and completed very quickly. I've gotten a few people to look it over for me, but if you see any errors or typos, let me know ASAP!
> 
> Fun fact: I wrote this in the span of 2 days. The entire time, I was listening to an instrumental cover of Rolling in the Deep on repeat. I need better writing music...


	2. Missions and Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela gets a request, and Fareeha introduces herself in the absolute worst way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some PTSD from Angela in this chapter. Also some mild blood.

Angela peered down at the transmission, squinting and rubbing her eyes. They burned a little, and the small glowing words blurred together at the edges. It had been a long day at the tail end of weeks of sleepless nights. Angela had gotten a bit… anxious after the midnight break in. Apparently no one had noticed a thing. She shivered, rubbed her hands down the sleeves of her long white lab coat, and sighed.

The transmission was from Helix Security International, a private security firm funded and operated by the UN. Apparently they had somehow gotten word that a small Talon splinter group was planning to attack one of their facilities. Ecopoint: Arabia, a former Overwatch research facility situated in the northern reaches of the Arabian Desert. Since all Overwatch facilities were turned over to the UN, Helix Security was charged with guarding them and all the sensitive information and equipment that might be contained inside. After half a decade, they were  _ still _ investigating Overwatch’s past activity.

Angela rubbed her eyes again, and reread.

 

_… requesting the presence of Doctor Angela Ziegler… predicting… possible casualties… autopsy…_ _squadron medic recently incapacitated…_

 

Honestly it seemed like she had no choice. Angela was loathe to visit an old Overwatch research facility, but Helix appeared to be in a bit of trouble and knowing Talon, lives were at stake. The camp didn’t exactly have an excess of transports, and the soldiers were probably not going to pick up and leave to go follow a doctor across the desert to fight for some private security company, but Angela hoped that after all she’d done, they’d at least let her borrow one of the hover trucks. 

She was correct in that regard, though it took a few hours of arguing to make it work. The commander was understandably very agitated at the thought of their primary medic leaving, but Angela had always been there as an independent doctor. She joined because she wanted to, and now she could leave if she wanted to. Never mind that she was probably going to come back, but the commander was still worried. 

In the end, Angela was allowed to take one of the transports, but only if she took a few guards with her too. She wasn’t quite pleased with the arrangement, but she could deal with it. It also meant that she didn’t have to drive, which was admittedly a small relief. She didn’t quite know exactly how to operate the all terrain hover trucks, and even if she did, Angela was a bit too foggy-minded to drive properly.

As soon as a few last minute arrangements were made, the truck was gone, speeding off across the dusty, cracked earth. Angela was content to curl up in a back seat, gnawing on stale biscuits and tapping furiously on her phone. Now that they knew she would help, Helix was sending her all the info that they had on the mission and updating her on the status of the squadron stationed at the ecopoint. Aside from their medic, who was currently bedridden, the soldiers were all in good condition. Helix wasn’t able to send in reinforcements in time, since they got the intel on such short notice. So, it was just one Raptora squadron defending the facility against a mysterious Talon offshoot. There was only a rough estimate of enemy numbers, but it was shaping up to be a rough fight.

 

Angela closed her phone and turned her gaze to the window. Dirt. She didn’t know what she expected.

 

* * *

 

_ Mercy.  _ Captain “Pharah” Amari paced around and around in circles, tracing her own footprints in loops on the ecopoint’s dusty floor.  _ Overwatch. _ She shivered, slightly. Since the squadron was on high alert, they were all suited up and ready for combat. They had been for quite a while now. Nerves were buzzing.  _ Mercy. _ The captain stopped and eyed the floor.  _ Overwatch.  _ She sighed, and resumed pacing.

HQ had informed her that Angela “Mercy” Ziegler was on her way to fill in as the squadron’s medic for this mission. Mercy.  _ The _ Mercy. The former head of Overwatch’s entire medical branch. The combat medic. The pioneer of the revolutionary nanobiotic treatment. A former Overwatch agent. Overwatch.  _ Overwatch _ . The source of Fareeha Amari’s dreams and aspirations for the entirety of her life. The life’s work of her mother. The organization of heroes. Overwatch. Over-

Captain Amari thought that she might have driven herself crazy running her mind around in circles if the alarm had not, at that moment, gone off. Her meandering thoughts solidified into one clear goal. Complete the mission. As she lifted off, calling orders into her comm, a faint thought flickered in the back of her head. 

_ The doctor is late. _

 

* * *

 

Angela practically broke down the door in her haste to get out. She could hear gunfire, and smell jet fuel wafting in the wind. As the Caduceus staff hummed to life, Angela spotted a thick plume of smoke wafting from the southern end of the building. There was a flash, and explosion, another burst of gunfire.

Angela broke into a sprint, scanning the bright sky for a target. Any target. Something that looked very much like a Raptora suit was crumpled in a nearby doorway, smeared with blood. Angela kept her gaze focused on it as the wings on the Valkyrie swift-response suit flared to life. She dashed through the smoke and dust, and the hum of the Caduceus systems filled her ears. 

 

* * *

 

Getting shot hurt. Everyone knew that, but there was nothing that could quite prepare you for the experience. In fact, Pharah thought that perhaps the shock was worse than the pain. Plasma bullets and energy blasters, which the captain had been shot with before, didn’t quite hit with such a punch. It was almost a surprise, to feel something hit her in the side so hard that it knocked the air out of her lungs. Pharah’s mind was a little bit slow to react. 

At that moment, she knew exactly 3 things. One, that her thrusters had turned off, and she was hurtling rather alarmingly quickly towards the ground. Two, that she could see a streak of golden light zipping through the firefight, and that there was a man on a balcony aiming at it. Three, that there was a fast approaching sandstorm to the northeast. Pharah could already feel the grains of sand stinging on her face.

Pharah would later describe the decision as almost instinctive. She trained her eyes on the flitting golden wings of Dr. Ziegler, adjusted her flight path ever so slightly, pulled up on her plunge, and tackled the doctor right out of the air (and out of the path of a sniper bullet). Then, ignoring Mercy’s protests, she tipped the doctor over her shoulder, threw open the nearest door, dumped Mercy in, stepped inside, slammed the door, and immediately passed out.

Fareeha awoke to find herself on a tarp in the middle of the room (she had been moved from the door?) with a small biotic emitter glowing cheerfully at her side. Most of her suit was gone, and clean bandages had been applied to her side. The wound stung. Fareeha turned her head and blinked. The windows were dark; she could hear the sandstorm raging outside. A pale blue light spilled into the room from a single lamp. Working by its light, Dr. Angela Ziegler was seated at a desk, busily inspecting something. Pieces of the Raptora Mark VI suit lay in a neat pile at her feet, and the Caduceus staff leaned dark and silent against the table.

Dr. Angela Ziegler… She had solemn eyes, and quick, nimble fingers. Her pale hair was pulled back into a messy, windswept ponytail. She was still wearing the Valkyrie suit, though its wings were no longer active. Although dusty, sandy, and featuring smears of blood, Angela seemed to glow in the icy light. She looked absolutely ethereal.

As Fareeha tried (and failed) to sit up, a whimper of pain escaped from between her clenched teeth. Angela was on her feet in an instant, bending over the injured soldier. Fareeha could see the doctor’s eyes flick up and down her body, checking for harm. Angela’s eyebrows were knitted in equal parts concern and concentration.

“Stay still. You need rest.” Angela pressed a firm hand into Fareeha’s chest. Fareeha obligingly lay back down. Angela retreated momentarily, reappearing with a small pill and a canteen of water. She offered both to Fareeha. “It’ll make you feel better.” Her voice was gentle, softly comforting. She watched Fareeha drink, and then took the canteen and retreated back to the desk.

Confined to the floor, Fareeha settled with staring at the ceiling and interrogating Angela. Was the door locked? (Yes, Angela made sure of that.) How long had Fareeha been out? (Around two hours.) Had there been any correspondence from the squadron? (No, but Angela had not checked.) Was she hurt? (No, Angela had not sustained any major injuries.) Was there anything connecting to this room? (Yes, but the door was locked.) Did she know what happened to the attackers? (All she knew was that she couldn’t hear combat outside.) The storm might last for a few days. How long would supplies last? (About a week, if they rationed it carefully.) Had she ever been stationed here before? (No, Angela was never really involved with the ecopoints.) Did Fareeha ever introduce herself? (No, but Angela knew who she was.)

As Fareeha’s questions trailed off, a short moment of silence stretched between them. “Anything else you want to ask?” Angela’s voice was quiet. It quavered a bit. They both knew what Fareeha could ask about. Ana Amari was dead, but her ghost had haunted her daughter for years. Now it lingered over their conversation, and both women were keenly aware of it.

“...No.” Fareeha sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to rest. 

Hours later, she piped up again. “Why did you leave Oasis?”

Angela stared woodenly at the surface of her desk. “People needed my help.”

“You could have helped them from Oasis. You could have helped them and done so much more.” Fareeha stared intently at the doctor. Angela refused to meet her gaze.

Her voice was quiet, almost broken. “Do what? Change the world? Provide peace and care with cutting edge equipment? I tried that already. I tried so hard, but I failed in the end. We all did, didn’t we? There’s no less fighting now than there was then. We didn’t matter.  _ I _ didn’t matter. Who was I fooling, all those years ago? I couldn’t change the world. It’s better to just settle for smaller things.” One pale finger picked at the surface of the desk. “Sometimes I wonder if I was wrong. If peace was ever really an option in the first place.”

_ Clunk. _ Fareeha turned. Angela had unholstered her pistol, and placed it on the desk. She was crying. “True peace is rarely possible. That’s why I have this. But when it mattered most, it was useless. Because of me.” Angela remembered. She remembered the taste of blood and sweat, the smell of smoke. Ringing ears. Rubble, streaks of blood, cries for help. Pain. Adrenaline. A person standing over her comrades. Shaking fingers, raising a gun. Blinking sweat out of her eyes. The feeling of the trigger on her finger. The feeling of her finger leaving the trigger. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Screaming. Awful, awful screaming-

“Doctor?” The voice jolted her back to the present. Fareeha, laying on the floor, eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

Angela pressed her palms into her eyes. Her voice was ragged. “I’m done with trying to change the world.”

Fareeha was silent. Soon after, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha woke up early, as was her habit. She was immediately aware of something soft and warm pressed against her left side. Fareeha turned stiffly and immediately began to blush furiously. Dr. Angela Ziegler was curled up with her back against Fareeha’s midriff, soundly asleep. Fareeha lay there in silence for several minutes, quite unsure of what one should do when one wakes up to find a beautiful woman sleeping at one’s side.

In the end, she (very carefully) got up and went rummaging around in the pile of her gear. Her headset should be in there somewhere, and she can use it to get in touch with the others. Judging by the faint light streaming through a narrow, high window, the storm was letting up. Hopefully her soldiers were alright. She needed the status on them and the intruders, and probably would need to make a report back to HQ.

The sound of shifting cloth interrupted Fareeha’s train of thought. She looked over her shoulder to see a somewhat disgruntled, bleary-eyed Angela sit up. She yawned, then looked around the room, gaze settling on Fareeha.

“Oh, um, good morning.” Fareeha’s hands fluttered and made little gestures in the air. “Are… are you alright? I mean, uh, if you don’t want to talk about… that, that’s cool, sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean…” Fareeha cleared her throat. Angela said nothing. Fareeha could have sworn there were crickets chirping somewhere.

“I- I guess…” Fareeha sighed, and deflated a little bit. “Listen, about last night… Don’t you have to try? To keep fighting? It feels like one step forward, one step back, but, if you don’t, won’t it just be a bunch of steps back? I want to protect what I love, and the people that would hurt what I love won’t give up, so I won’t either. There will always be villains, but there will always be heroes to stop them. And maybe you failed once; we’ve all failed before, but why would you let that stop you? It doesn’t mean the end, and there are still people worth protecting, right?” Fareeha coughed and laced her fingers together. “...Or something…”

Fareeha was saved by the beeping of her comm. WIth a surge of relief, she jammed it over her head. “Pharah online. All troops, status report.”

 

* * *

 

Angela watched Fareeha turn away, murmuring into her comm. The other woman’s fierce passion for doing good reminded her of something. Lena perhaps. Oxton was always prone to cheesy speeches; in fact it was a similar talk that had led to her first mission as an Overwatch agent. A mission that Angela herself had been on, in fact. Jack had told her about agent Tracer’s speech during Angela’s mission briefing. He was right; there  _ was _ something strangely compelling about that kind of unwavering idealism.

Fareeha looked up just as Angela got to her feet. “The others are in the transport ship that brought us here. We’re going to join them as soon as it’s clear enough to fly, which should be soon.” Angela grunted her understanding, and stretched. She’d better get the medkit and Caduceus systems packed up.


	3. Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tidying up in the aftermath of the attack, featuring Angela being horrifically bad at self care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More PTSD from Angela, with the addition of some medications. Also mentions of corpses. This one's a bit on the short side, but I enjoyed it!

Fareeha was right; the storm did clear up quite quickly. It was still early morning when she flew Angela out to the ship. Everyone was present and accounted for, even Angela’s guards. While almost all of them had some sort of injury, no one was dead, much to Fareeha’s delight. They had been quite seriously outnumbered the day before, and she had been worried.

While Angela got to work treating the soldiers, Fareeha busied herself with sending a report to HQ. A preliminary scan showed that no living attackers were still present at the ecopoint. While many were dead, the rest appear to have escaped into the desert. They’d need to run some recon missions to try and locate the assailants. The bodies would also need to be collected and inspected. Fareeha hoped that Angela would be willing to help in that regard, especially in identifying the bodies. HQ would probably want her to perform an autopsy on one of the bodies as well. 

Angela was indeed willing to help out. The ship’s medbay was a bit basic, and not really equipped for forensic analysis, but it was the only option as the ecopoint labs lost power a long time ago (and were equally unsuited for forensics, seeing as they were mostly made to study climate change). With the help of some equipment pilfered from the ecopoint, Angela made things work. 

In the meantime, Pharah and her crew went to work scouring the area in an attempt to find the ecopoint’s attackers. When they came up empty handed, the squadron spent several days doing a thorough sweep of the facility. They found nothing out of the ordinary, though the ecopoint’s computers and locked rooms would have to be investigated later when power was restored. All in all, it took about a month to wrap up business at the ecopoint.

That month was quite the learning experience for Fareeha. Not learning about her job, of course, she had done this many times before, but rather learning about Angela. For example, it didn’t take long for Fareeha to discover that Angela was a remarkably fast worker. She was given one of the bodies to do an autopsy on, and not a day had passed before she submitted a lengthy, detailed report on her findings. To summarize, the individual had been around 30 years old, female, and caucasian. She had died of blunt head trauma (Saleh confessed to having hit this one very hard over the head with his rocket launcher).

Fareeha also learned that for a world class doctor, Angela was remarkably bad at taking care of herself. On multiple occasions, the captain had been forced to deliver food and water to the medbay and sit there to make sure Angela ate. Angela merely said that she sometimes got so engrossed in her work that she forgot to eat (much to Fareeha’s exasperation). 

Once, Fareeha got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. Upon returning to bed, she noticed that light was peeking out from under the medbay door. When she entered the medbay, she was greeted by a very, very tired Angela. When Fareeha asked Angela how long she had been awake, Angela responded by telling her a story about how one of the interns back at the Swiss HQ once drank what was essentially pure caffeine and didn’t sleep for a week. She then proceeded to giggle uncontrollably, compliment Fareeha’s hair, and fall asleep on the spot, toppling into a very confused and somewhat frightened Fareeha’s arms.

Fareeha carried Angela to her bed, but Angela woke up as Fareeha was trying to tuck her in. She pointed out a small bottle of tablets on the nightstand, which were for sleeping, according to her. Fareeha got her one, gave up her half empty glass of water, pulled up a chair, and sat there all night to make sure Angela really did go to sleep. Angela later woke to find the captain still sitting at her bedside, snoozing in her chair. Angela moved her to the bed and let her nap there until she woke up in the afternoon. After that, Fareeha made it a habit to check in on Angela every night and make sure she was getting some sleep.

Another time, Fareeha walked into the medbay only to find Angela curled up in a corner, shaking uncontrollably. Fareeha understood. Her mom used to get like this sometimes. She’d take medication to help, but since Fareeha was unfamiliar with Angela’s medications (if she had any at all), she merely sat down with Angela and provided a shoulder to cry on. Having some solid, familiar company seemed to help. Later, Angela found Fareeha and thanked her, and also mentioned that she was supposed to take one of the pills out of the green bottle when she had an episode like that. She admitted that she sometimes needed some help with them, and if Fareeha should deem it necessary in the future, she had permission to retrieve them for her.

All in all though, Angela was a good and welcome addition to the Helix squad. She was a pleasant presence, fussing over this and that like a mother hen. It made the soldiers happy, though they’d probably never admit it. It felt really good to have someone around that cared so much (though she  _ was  _ a very real danger to their beloved supply of coffee).

Operations at the ecopoint couldn’t last forever though. Fareeha was aware that soon the squadron would have to pack up and move out, and Angela was returning to her work in the warzones. Or so she presumed, until she was accosted by Angela the evening before the squadron’s departure.

“Captain! Um… I’ve been thinking. About things. About what you said that morning, back when we first met.” Angela cleared her throat. “Where are you headed off to next?”

Fareeha flushed a bit at the mention of that particular morning. It had not been her best moment. “We are headed to Oasis after this. Mostly we’re going to be on standby for any new threats to the various Helix bases in the area.”

Angela raised one perfect eyebrow. “Oh? I wasn’t aware that Helix had a facility in Oasis.”

Fareeha looked askance. “Uh, well, we actually don’t. It’s just conveniently close to the top priority bases, that’s all. We’ll probably have to book some hotel rooms or something… I should get on that…”

Angela beamed. “I could call. They told me when I left that they’d be happy to welcome me back any time. I think they’ll give me back my old apartment if I asked nicely.”

Fareeha was taken aback. “What?”

“I mean, if I can come with you that is.” Angela smiled hopefully up at the captain. “I’ve talked it over with the guys that I came with. They’re reluctant, but I’m free to go.” She looked down, suddenly a bit shy. “I think… I think it’s time I took a bigger role in global matters again.”

Delighted, Fareeha patted her on the back. “Yes! Yes of course you can come with us! And uh, please do call ahead. I dread having to book hotel rooms.” She shuddered, and when Angela laughed, she laughed along. Fareeha couldn’t quite explain the light, bubbly feeling in her chest, but it felt good.

As it turns out, when they heard that Angela would be back with a whole Helix Securities squadron in tow, the Ministries of Oasis collectively decided to give her an entire house. It was large enough for everyone to get a room, a welcome relief after spending a month doubling up in the ecopoint bunks. And while they were technically on alert, there was time enough for the soldiers to relax and take a break for a while. Despite many inquiries, Angela, too, awarded herself a mini vacation in the city.


	4. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What might constitute as dates, and some drunken midnight foolishness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is alcohol in this chapter!

The house was quiet. The others had all wandered off to roam the city streets that morning, and Fareeha had to admit it was a little bit boring in the house all by herself. Well, actually, not _quite_ all by herself. Angela was holed up in her room, probably tapping madly at her computer. She claimed to be taking a vacation, but had also started a new paper that she was hoping to publish in a few months. If this was what constituted a "vacation" for Angela, Fareeha was a bit afraid of what actual work meant.

Fareeha’s feet brought her idly to Angela’s door. She hesitated, then tapped lightly. From the other side, she could hear the light scamper of feet. The door creaked open. Angela blinked in the relative brightness of the hallway, and offered Fareeha a tired smile.

“Did you need anything?”

“Ah, no, not really.” Fareeha smiled back. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out and grab some coffee or something? I think I’m going to die if I don’t get out and get some fresh air.”

Angela’s smile widened into a cheeky grin. “You’re going to die? Well, that sounds concerning. What condition is that? I’ve never heard of it before.” She laughed, then patted Fareeha on the arm and breezed out the door. “Coffee _does_ sound nice. Come on, I know a place.”

That place turned out to be an airy little cafe near the docks. The two got themselves a nice little table by the window, and for a while sat there enjoying the sun, the water, and the quiet comfort of good company and good coffee in the morning. As always, it was Fareeha that broke the comfortable quiet.

“Can I ask you about Overwatch?” She seemed a little bit shy about the subject. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but Overwatch…” She sighed. “Overwatch was my dream. I don't know. I guess I just want to know more about it. If that’s alright.”

Angela considered her for a moment. “Ask away.”

“Oh.” If Fareeha had to be honest, she wasn’t expecting it to have been that easy. Now that the moment was here, she was kind of at a loss as to what to say. “Well… Why did you think it should have been shut down?”

Angela spoke slowly, thoughtfully, gazing out at the sunlit water. “It was going down a dark path. You probably know what started happening at the end. Infighting. Corruption in the higher ranks. Trouble was brewing. If Overwatch didn’t get shut down, it would have just torn itself to pieces anyways.” She sighed. “It almost did, back in Switzerland. At the time, I also started questioning the organization as a whole. I came to believe that it was simply not worth it anymore”

Fareeha was a bit surprised. “Not worth it? But you saved thousands of lives, didn’t you? The technology that you developed saved millions, maybe even billions more.”

Angela smiled mournfully at her cup. “Sometimes saving a life can also ruin it. I remember… one of my earliest, biggest operations. Sometimes I think it was a mistake.” She sighed again. “Well, patient confidentiality and all, but I have never seen a man so full of sullen anger.” Indeed, Genji Shimada seemed to have been filled with such palpable loathing that it was almost a relief when he left. He had been clinging to his life by a thread when they brought him in. As soon as he was stable enough to talk, Reyes went in and talked with him for a long time. When he was done, Angela had orders to collaborate with some top engineers to repair the young man’s body with cybernetics, and additionally enhance him to give him superhuman abilities. She had disagreed with weaponizing a life like that, but she had followed her orders. Over the following years, she watched as Genji Shimada sunk deeper and deeper into a mire of simmering rage and self-hatred. He was truly not a bad man, but it was for the best when he left. Angela had often wondered if she really did the right thing, or if it would have been better to have just let him die.

Fareeha considered this for a moment. “... I see. The other agents were amazing, right? When you knew them?” She leaned forward a little, a childlike glow of enthusiasm in her face.

“Yes. They were good people. Good friends. True heroes of the world. People with the best intentions.” Angela shook her head. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

Fareeha sat back a little bit. Angela had the feeling she wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer, but she didn’t press for more details. “So,” Fareeha said, sipping at the last dregs of her coffee, “why did you join Overwatch then?”

Angela was suddenly reminded of a very similar question asked by a very different speaker. Memories of a dark night and a glowing blue triangle sprang to mind. She spoke plainly. “Naiveté. I was young and hopeful. I took some convincing, even then, but I really did believe Overwatch could save the world.” Angela tipped her cup back, and emptied it. She turned her gaze back to the water.

As she paid for the coffee, Fareeha watched Angela, watched how the light shone through the window and played on her face, watched how stray hairs whisked lightly in the wake of passerby. How the blue of her eyes sparkled like the blue of the water. She couldn’t stop thinking one thing. _I still believe that Overwatch can save the world._

Over the next few months, Fareeha found herself with many more opportunities for such excursions with Angela. She was starting to suspect that her squadron was trying to set them up, but she didn’t have any _actual_ evidence. One evening, Angela invited her out for a stroll in a nearby park. It had a good view of the sunset, or so she said. Fareeha was glad for it. It was a welcome respite from sitting around all day arguing with other company officials about the future of their operations in the area.

Eventually, the conversation turned once again to Overwatch. To its former agents in particular this time. Angela was a little bit slow to start, but after she loosened up a little bit, Fareeha was delighted to find that she had a good deal of excellent stories about her former coworkers. Stories about Reinhardt, who was just like how Fareeha had always remembered him, or Torbjorn, who apparently spent half of his time yelling at anyone that dared to so much as breathe on his precious turrets wrong. She talked about cheery and bubbly Tracer, that promising young recruit from the unfortunate Slipstream incident, one of Overwatch’s top agents right before it fell. She talked of McCree, a scruffy, drawling sharpshooter from the USA that always wore the most ridiculous belt buckles and had a bad smoking habit. She talked about Winston, a fellow scientist, who always had a warm heart and a childish gleam of curiosity. About Jack Morrison, the Strike Commander, who always insisted that he was fine even when he was clearly _not_ , and Gabriel Reyes, a quieter man that was full of witty snark and relentless perseverance. And then, of course…

“Ana.” Angela’s voice grew quiet. “Second in command. The best shooter in the world. Your mother was an amazing woman.”

Fareeha stared into the distance. “I know.”

“Ana Amari commanded respect like no one else. People were drawn to her. She was so firm in her belief, so respectful of the lives she took, of the duty she bore and the honor with which she carried it out. Jack and Gabe were great leaders. But Ana was something else. I think out of all of them, I respected her the most.” Angela looked at Fareeha. “You’re a lot like her. She’d be proud, if she could see you now.”

Fareeha lowered her gaze. Her voice was soft. “Would she? My mother never wanted me to fight. We argued a lot about that. We… never settled it.”

Angela watched Fareeha with soft blue eyes, and silently took her hand. She pulled her insistently to a park bench, and together they sat and watched the sun go down. It _did_ have a good view of the sunset. There was still a quiet melancholy feeling in the air, but at least they had each other. For now, that was good enough.

 

* * *

 

Looking back, Fareeha had absolutely no idea how she got herself into that particular situation that particular night. She wasn’t quite sure why she decided to do what she did, and never did puzzle out what exactly she was thinking at the time. It quietly kept her up at night for many weeks afterwards, but in the end Fareeha gave up on it and just accepted that it had happened.

It was a cool autumn evening when Fareeha was walking down the hall with all intentions of going to bed. Instead, she stumbled upon the one and only Dr. Angela Ziegler sitting in the kitchen, holding a glass of wine. It wasn’t her first glass either, judging by the slight flush of her skin. A dark bottle sat on the counter.

Angela looked up as Fareeha entered. “Hey Fareeha. Want to try some?” She gestured with her glass at the bottle. “It’s good. Not like that… fermented dirt juice they have out in the desert.” She snickered to herself, and sipped at her glass.

With an almost defeated air, Fareeha procured another glass and poured herself a bit of wine. Angela was right. It _was_ good. Angela sat and chattered about little things, like the weather, or a bird she saw outside the window, or how pretty the colors of the tiles in the bathroom were. Fareeha mostly listened. She thought that Angela was a great deal prettier than the tiles in the bathroom.

Eventually the two moved to the living room, and curled up together on the couch. At this point, it was safe to say that they were both drunk. Suddenly, Angela piped up. “Fareeha? What do you think about the future?”

Fareeha snorted. “Is it your turn to ask hard questions now, Angie? Well, I think the future will be good.”

Angela tilted her head and looked at Fareeha. “Mm? Yeah? What… what makes you say that?”

Fareeha leaned into Angela’s comforting warmth. “Good people are strong. They always win, in the end. Because… bad people are bad at winning.” Fareeha seemed remarkably pleased with herself. She thought that was clever.

Angela smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You’re a good person, and you’re very strong. Stronger than me.”

Fareeha’s voice was suddenly sharp. “No.”

Angela blinked, and frowned. “Hm?”

“I’m not that strong, Angie. Just… just better at hiding it maybe. Sometimes things are so uncertain, and I get so scared and I… I just…” Fareeha suddenly realized that she was crying. “I have to make awful, hard decisions all the time. And sometimes things get bad and hope seems to be just so far away. I just… I…” She trailed off, and wrapped her arms around Angela, burying her nose in her hair. Angela smelled kind of like vanilla. “I loved my mother. I loved her so much. And when she died, I was so lost. I didn’t know what to do. And then… and then I hear so much about how great she was, and I wonder if I’ll ever live up to her legacy. I wonder, when the time comes, if I’ll be good enough.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared about a lot of things Angie. So, so scared.”

Angela reached up and lightly brushed at Fareeha’s tears. “Talk to me, love. Talk to me. I’m here to listen.”

And so Fareeha and Angela sat together on a couch on one crisp autumn night, and talked, and shared their hearts like only drunk girls could. They also said a lot of stupid things, like “I like your muscles.” (This was followed by Angela patting Fareeha’s bicep in appreciation.) Angela ended up falling asleep briefly in Fareeha’s lap, before the two went their separate ways and went to sleep.


	5. Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha leads a "kill everything" type squad. Angela heartily disapproves. Also, hangovers suck. This is a short chapter.

They seemed much less willing to talk to each other in the morning. They skirted around each other with flickering, shy glances, rarely meeting the other’s gaze. When they did cross paths, both blushed quite furiously and quickly departed. To compound the issue, both were nursing quite monstrous hangovers. Angela ended up retreating to her room to work on her paper, leaving Fareeha to morosely wander the streets of Oasis for the entire day.

A few days later, Fareeha finally got a mission. Some suspicious activity had recently been detected at an abandoned town about a 5 hour flight due north of Oasis. Intel suggested that it was the remainder of the group that had launched the attack on the ecopoint. In the interest of preserving all Helix facilities in the area, Fareeha and her squadron were to go in and eradicate the group. 

The very next day, the squadron departed. After the debrief, Fareeha spent most of the flight throwing around some banter with her soldiers. Once, she smiled hesitantly at Angela. Angela paused, then flashed a quick smile back. A considerable amount of stress melted from Fareeha’s chest. They didn’t talk.

It was a good day, clear skies, a bit cooler than usual (but still hot), and a light breeze. The carrier landed a few miles out from the target site, behind a steep rise. Pharah was hoping for the advantage of surprise. Since the carrier engines were loud, the group would approach with their suits. The Raptora suits had silencing capabilities, but it couldn’t muffle the sound of the more powerful thrusters. They would have to approach slowly, and carefully. 

 

“Pharah online. All Raptora units, report.”

“Pigeon online. All systems green.”

“Gourmand online. All systems green.”

“Clipper online. All systems green.”

“Coder online. All systems green.”

“Wasp online. I’m green.”

 

“Understood. Commence operation immediately upon reaching the target area. Kill on sight.” A chorus of “aye” rang in Pharah’s ear. She couldn’t see Mercy out of the corner of her visor. Pharah was sure she was unhappy with the whole “kill on sight” thing.

That concern slipped to the back of Pharah’s mind as the adrenaline took over. She could see a flicker of movement on the street; a person dashing in a panic towards shelter. This, this was something that she knew how to do. Soaring through the sky, bearing down upon her prey. Shooting rockets, delivering justice. Protecting her loved ones. Pharah crested a crumbling gray building, eyes scanning for her next target.

Pharah’s comm crackled to life. “Clipper here. I’ve been hit!”

“Mercy on call. What’s your position?” Pharah momentarily lost concentration, that smooth, calm voice sending a thrill up her spine. She had almost forgotten that Mercy had been added to the comm line.

“Eastern sector. Behind the building with the brick roof.” 

“Sit tight. I’m coming.” Out of the corner of her eye, Pharah spotted the golden glow of Mercy’s wings. Her heart felt light and heavy all at once. Mercy was very, very pretty in that Valkyrie suit. Pharah turned her attention back to the mission.

The already crippled group scattered before the squadron like rabbits scattered before eagles. By the end of the day, every single one had been eradicated. After scouring the crumbling buildings for any info or survivors, the crew returned to the carrier, satisfied with a job well done. As Pharah wrote her report, she couldn’t help but notice how quiet Mercy was. How she sat alone, and stared at her hands.

“Hey.” Angela looked up. Fareeha, smelling of jet fuel sat down next to her. “It’s hard for you, isn’t it?” Angela went back to looking at her hands, and said nothing. Fareeha continued. “I believe in fighting for a greater cause. And that people that try to hurt others, that try to hurt the world, need to be brought to justice. You think that all life is too valuable to take. And that’s amazing. I love you for it, you know.” At the word “love”, the tips of Angela’s ears turned a bit pink. Fareeha pressed on. “We’re different in that regard. You know, when I first heard you speak on your values, I didn’t like you.” Angela’s head snapped up, her eyes staring at Fareeha with a mix of horror and sudden uncertainty. Fareeha reached over and ruffled her hair. “You spoke out so strongly against fighting; I thought it was disrespectful to all the people that fought for their ideals. Like my mother.” She leaned ever so slightly into Angela. “I see things a lot differently now… Do you want to talk?” After a few long moments, Angela leaned back.

“Some things are necessary. Even when I don’t like it.” She murmured. “I just wish they weren’t.”

For the rest of the flight, the two sat together, each absorbed mostly in their own thoughts. Indeed, things were never so black and white as either would like, and the world was often confusing and upsetting. But they had each other. And that was good enough. It was good enough… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... kind of bad at making up callsigns. I based a few off of the Mission Statement comic. "Coder" is Tariq, referencing his previous job in IT. "Gourmand" is Saleh, who can apparently be convinced to fly into a death trap when offered free food. "Wasp" is Aizad because he took point and wasps are pointy.
> 
> I think I'm funny.


	6. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela accidentally slips up, and isn't good enough at lying to cover it up. She should put more points into charisma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another shorter chapter. Actually, looking at the draft, all the chapters following this one will also be pretty short. Oh, and we're pretty much done with the angst!
> 
> Also, regarding the chapter summary... I'd like you all the know that I think charisma is the best stat in D&D. Good persuasion rolls let you get away just about about anything and the DM can't stop you. It's hilarious. Please roll some stupidly charismatic characters. Please. You won't regret it. (If you do, I wasn't the one that told you that.)

On a warm afternoon some time later, Angela found herself outside of Fareeha’s door. She still wasn’t quite sure exactly what she was doing there, but Angela felt like she needed to say something, especially considering the events of that night several days ago. Fareeha’s voice still echoed in her ears, and deep down Angela knew she couldn’t stand that the captain was suffering so quietly. Angela pressed her lips together and rapped firmly on the door.

A somewhat ruffled Fareeha answered. She had spent the entire day in various calls and meetings, and was not particularly in the mood for anything other than a shower and a long nap. After some consideration of the woman at her door, she added a third thing to her list of things that she would not mind.

“Hello. Can I come in?”

Fareeha grunted and opened the door wider.

Angela smiled shyly. “I just uh, wanted to talk. I don’t know, sorry, this is coming out of nowhere isn’t it? I just, I’ve been thinking about what you said. That night. About fear. And all that I don’t know I just wanted to say something because you’re great and I hate that you feel like that and I wish that you didn’t feel like that and-”

Fareeha gazed down at her patiently, and then firmly put a hand on her head. Angela stopped talking immediately. “Slow down.”

Angela sighed, twisting her fingers together and looking around the room. “I just… Listen, you’re amazing, okay? You really are. And, your mother was amazing too, but you don’t have to be like her. No one expects you to be her. Ana Amari was Ana Amari. You are you. You’re amazing in your own way, you don’t have to live up to her legacy, you can make your own. You _are_ making your own. I… when my beliefs were shaken, I ran. Overwatch agents were hailed as heroes. I didn’t deserve that title. Even after I got a second chance, I still don’t. But you, you deserve it so much. You’ve never stopped believing. You’re brilliant and brave and caring, and when the world needs you the most, you’ll be there. I know you will. You’re a hero. Never doubt that, alright?”

Fareeha blinked owlishly down at Angela. She cocked her head. “What do you mean by ‘second chance’?”

 

_Scheisse. I shouldn’t have said that. Oh, I took too long to answer. Now she’s suspicious. I should tell her. Should I tell her? She deserves to know, right? Scheisse. Me and my dumb mouth._

 

Angela looked around nervously. She quickly reached back and shut the door. Her voice lowered to a murmur, forcing Fareeha to lean in closer to hear. “Can you keep a secret?”

Fareeha nodded. This was serious, she could tell. “If you really want me to.”

Angela’s gaze was sharp. “This is serious, Fareeha. If word of this gets out, the mess that they’ll be in…” She sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Fareeha frowned. “They?”

Angela fixed her gaze firmly on the floor. “What do you know about the watchpoint at Gibraltar?”

“Hmm.. It was one of the bigger, major ones, wasn’t it? They cleaned it out really early on after Overwatch was outlawed, and then shut it down completely. It hasn’t been touched in years.”

“So you say. And so everyone thinks. One of my old colleagues has made his home there. Like a lot of us, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Considering recent world events, he thinks Overwatch should be… reinstated. That the world would benefit from that kind of organization. A while ago, several months back, before I met you, he… sent out a call. Asking us, the old Overwatch agents, to come to the watchpoint. To work on protecting the world again, even if it was very, very illegal.”

Fareeha could hear her blood rushing in her ears. “And? What did you do?”

Angela appeared to have suddenly found the tops of her shoes very interesting. “I rejected it. Overwatch was shut down for a reason. I still think it’s for the best that it stays that way. If it reforms now, it’ll still be weak and scarred from what happened over half a decade ago. It’ll also be illegal and pressed for funding. If it really gets going, it will fail, and it’ll take all of its agents down with it.”

Fareeha was incredulous. “You’re kidding. You’re joking, right? Overwatch was the greatest thing to happen to the world in the past century. A team of 6 people, _6 people_ , ended the omnic crisis through skill and the strength of their conviction. I was never a part of Overwatch. But even I believe that it’s stronger than you think it is.”

Angela couldn’t meet the other woman’s eye. She voice was soft, feathery. “I’m sorry. But I worry. You can’t blame me for that.” With that, she turned, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, after lunch, Angela looked up from her work to find Fareeha leaning against her door frame. There was a look in her eyes that Angela did not particularly like.

“I’ve negotiated for an extended leave from Helix.”

Angela put her pen down. She was suddenly tired. “You’re going to Gibraltar.” She didn’t have to look at Fareeha to know that she was right.

“Are you going to come with me?” Fareeha’s voice was gentle, hopeful.

“No. I’m not joining Overwatch again.” Angela’s voice was equally gentle, but firm.

Fareeha’s shoulders sagged. “At least come and vouch for me. They’re not going to let just anyone in, right?”

Angela said nothing.

“Angela. Angie. You know how much this means to me. I argued with my mother about it so much. I don’t want to argue with you too.”

Angela stared down at her writing. The seconds ticked by. At last, she spoke. “Only until you’re settled in. Deal?”

Fareeha grinned. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Scheisse" is the Swiss/anglicized variant of the German "Scheiße". I suspect that most people reading this know already, but it means "shit".


	7. Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Angela turns out to be the one and only qualified and licensed doctor in the entirety of Overwatch. Winston and Lena finally make appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever thought about how out of all of the game's supports, only one is actually a medic? I feel bad for her.

They flew in by plane, and then took a truck closer to the watchpoint. The last leg of the journey they made on foot under the cover of night. Since everyone figured that there was nothing worth anything at the watchpoint anymore, the official security was all but nonexistent by the time Winston had moved in. Winston had taken care what little remained, and set up his own systems in their place. 

So it was that both he and Tracer knew _exactly_ who had arrived by the time Angela and Fareeha found themselves standing outside the watchpoint’s main entrance. On the flip side of the coin, Angela only got a short, delighted shriek as a warning as to who was coming before being tackled to the ground by a giggling blue streak of light. 

“Oof. Hello Lena, it’s nice to see you too! Now, uh, if you could get off me, dear, that would be great!” Angela laughed and pushed the smaller woman off her chest. 

“Angie!” At this, Fareeha grinned. “We thought you weren’t coming back!” Lena was now running circles around a very relieved looking Winston. 

“Ah, well, I’m here with Fareeha. For now, at least.”

Lena skidded to a stop. “Fareeha? Amari?” Her head whipped around to look Fareeha up and down. She huffed. “Darn, you got taller. It’s not fair, everyone here makes me look short.” 

Winston smiled good naturedly and adjusted his glasses. “More to the point, Dr. Ziegler. What do you mean by ‘for now’? Are you not staying?”

Angela smiled mournfully, and shook her head.

Lena was quite frankly outraged. “What do you  _ MEAN  _ you’re not staying? You just got here, and you’re already saying you’re gonna leave?”

Winston furrowed his brow and cut in. “Leave her alone Lena. I’m sure she has her reasons. Well Dr. Ziegler, it’s good to have you for now. And you as well, Ms. Amari. Come in, come in. You must be tired. Athena will show you the way to your rooms.” With one last glance, he turned and disappeared into the Watchpoint. After a moment, Lena followed him, leaving Angela and Fareeha to trail in behind.

Their rooms were in the same hall. Fareeha leaned over with a grin. “Good night, Angie.” Angela playfully socked her in the shoulder. Laughing, Fareeha put up her hands. “Hey, she called you Angie, so you can’t be mad at me.” Still laughing, Fareeha disappeared into her room.

Angela stood in the hall for a moment, suddenly overcome by nostalgia and uncertainty. She slowly entered her own room, undressed, and tried to go to sleep. She was doing what was right. But why did it feel so bad? Angela pictured Lena’s disappointed gaze. Her friends… After an hour of tossing and turning, Angela fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Winston accosted her the next morning after breakfast. Fareeha had disappeared somewhere, mentioning something about a gym. Lena had dogged Angela like an overly attached puppy for the entire morning. As she followed Winston down a hall to a meeting room, she decided that she was really dreading this conversation.

As it was though, she could not dodge it. Lena and Winston had got her cornered. 

“Angela, we need to talk.” Winston’s voice was gruff, and concerned. Lena was trying to do her best intimidating stare over his shoulder. “It’s great to have you back, even for a little bit. But please, consider staying. You were the backbone of our medical branch. We need you, Angela. We need all the help we can get, and you were always the best at helping. Listen… we’re kind of understaffed here. No one here knows anything more than basic first aid. We really, really need you.”

Lena butted in. “Don’t you believe in Overwatch? In saving people, helping people, keeping the peace?”

Angela frowned. Her voice was heavy. “I did. Overwatch did many good things, don’t get me wrong. But I worry about this. You’re desperate, I know. There are many challenges that are coming down the road if you keep going like this, and you’re going to get hurt. A lot of the problems with the old organization were never resolved. I fear that nothing but bad things are coming for this.” She gestured around vaguely. “I can’t support that.”

Winston frowned. “Our similarities come in our intentions, doctor. Everyone here wants nothing but the best for others, and has dedicated their lives to achieving that goal. Overwatch got mired in politics and personal issues, and perhaps it was unavoidable, but we will do better this time. The world needs us, Angela.”

Angela said nothing, and merely shook her head.

Winston sighed. “Well, I hope you reconsider. In the meantime, the medbay and its adjoining office are open to you. The medbay equipped with state of the art technology. I hope it suits you.”

As the door hissed shut behind her, Angela could hear the chatter and rumble of both Lena and Winston arguing fiercely about something. She stood in the hall for a moment, weighing her options, then turned her feet towards the medbay. She wasn’t quite used to state of the art, cutting edge facilities these days. It would be a nice change, for the time being.

Over the next few days, Angela grew increasingly morose. She spent more and more time in isolation in the medbay and her office, sinking heavily into her work. All of her friends were here, and leaving seemed harder and harder with every passing day. Everyone kept trying to convince her to stay. Angela was beginning to feel a little bit sick, perhaps from lack of sleep. 

It was another sleepless night that was the last straw for her. Bundled in a nightgown, a bleary-eyed Angela wandered the hallways like a ghost until her feet brought her to Fareeha’s door. For some reason, try as she might, Angela couldn’t bring herself to walk away. She knocked quietly.

Fareeha, who had obviously just woken up, answered the door. Angela idly noted that Fareeha wore her golden hair decorations, even when she slept. Also, that Fareeha had adorable rocket pajamas. No words were exchanged. Angela looked at Fareeha, and Fareeha looked at Angela. She seemed to understand. A gesture invited Angela into the room.

Since there were no chairs in the room, Angela seated herself on Fareeha’s bed. Fareeha sat next to her, a comfortable, solid warmth. Angela leaned into Fareeha. Fareeha leaned back. They sat, basking in each other’s company, listening to the clock tick by. It was quiet. Peaceful. Angela was suddenly very, very tired.

“Do you want to talk?” Fareeha’s voice was soft, slightly raspy.

“Mm.” Angela was quiet for a while. “There are no other doctors here.”

“Nope.”

“You’re all going to get yourselves killed, aren’t you?” Angela sighed.

A laugh rumbled in Fareeha’s chest. “Indeed. Soldiers are idiots, don’t you know?”

Angela snorted in disgust. “I know. Ugh, I remember that one time Jack went and got himself shot at least half a dozen times. He kept insisting that he was fine, and trying to run back onto the front lines. Reinhardt would do the same thing, except he once got himself stabbed in the butt too. ‘You are literally bleeding profusely from your gluteus,’ I told him. He laughed and said ‘you should see the other guy!’ Numbskulls.”

Fareeha laughed again, louder, lighter this time. It was a good sound, Angela decided. She would like to hear it more in the future.

Angela curled up, sighing through her nose. “I have to stay, don’t I?”

Fareeha hummed. “Probably.”

After several minutes, she looked at Angela. The other woman was soundly asleep. Fareeha hesitated, then gently lay her down on the bed, and curled up with her back to Angela’s. “Good night,  _ ya amar _ .” She fell asleep to the quiet rhythm of Angela’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fluent in neither Arabic nor German. If I've used a phrase from either language wrong, or failed to account for regional dialects (Egyptian and Swiss in this case), please feel free to correct me! "Ya amar" means "my moon" or "oh moon" in Arabic. It's an expression of love.


	8. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena's gaydar is tingling, but both Angela and Fareeha are reluctant to talk about it. McCree makes a brief appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Lena ships it.
> 
> Fun fact: while writing this chapter I once wrote "Lettuce" instead of "Lena". That was probably my queue to take a break.

Angela was very embarrassed about falling asleep in someone else’s bed in the morning. She wouldn’t stop apologizing. Fareeha wouldn’t stop insisting that it was fine. To add to her list of issues, Angela did not have a change of clothes. She would have to run down to her room in her nightgown and hope no one spotted her.

Of course, someone spotted her. And, out of all the people, it was Lena who saw Angela hurrying out of Fareeha’s room early in the morning wearing only a nightgown. Lena didn't stop to interrogate her, mostly because she could smell pancakes coming from the general area of the kitchen. However, she wouldn’t stop giving Angela shit-eating grins and waggling her eyebrows over breakfast. Angela only glared back. Fareeha, who was more preoccupied with her food (homemade pancakes were irresistible), was blissfully oblivious of the entire thing.

Angela excused herself as soon as she could and went searching for Winston. He had not been there for breakfast, which was a convenient excuse for Angela to run off. If he wasn't in any of the communal areas, Winston was almost always in his own lab, busily working away. He had essentially taken over as the head of Overwatch, and had a lot of work on his plate. Much like Angela, Winston also had several personal projects on the side to attend to. She admired his ability to balance it all without practically inhaling a gallon of distilled coffee over the span of a few hours and going into a work-crazed daze for a few days. Which... Angela had _definitely_ not done before.

“Winston?” Angela pushed open the door, peering into the gloom. Bright screens flickered on the walls. A stack on empty peanut butter jars teetered dangerously on the nearest table. Winston looked up, his glasses gleaming in the light of the monitors.

“Oh. Hello, Angela. Was there something that you needed?”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking that… maybe I’d like to stay after all. You really do seem to need my help.”

Winston perked up, and wandered over. “Really? That’s great! Thank you, Angela.” He patted her on the back a little too enthusiastically. Angela almost toppled over.

“Mm, yeah, no problem. I’ll be keeping an eye on everyone, making sure they’re alright. Take a break every once in a while, okay? They’re good for you. You'll work better too.” Winston huffed his understanding as Angela withdrew back into the hallway.

Angela made it about 5 paces from the door before she heard the distinctive noise of Lena zipping down the hall. “Oooh Angie~” She called. Angela broke into a cold sweat. Lena dashed in front of the doctor, grinning. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “What were you up to last night, huh?”

Angela put up her hands. “Listen, it really isn’t what it looks like. I was just-” She broke off, eyes narrowing. Frowning over Lena’s shoulder. “Hold on.” Angela gently shoved Lena to the side and broke into a sprint down the hall. “JESSIE MCCREE WHAT _DO_ YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

At the end of the hall, McCree froze, a cigar halfway to his lips. He had _not_ realized that Angela was nearby. “Aw doc, I was uh, just looking at it, ‘s all! And even if I was going to light it, it’d’ve been a one time thing! I promise!”

“Smoking is a nasty habit.” Angela snapped. “How many times have I told you about all the health problems it brings? And smoking indoors? Exposing others to secondhand smoke? Unforgivable! You’re coming with me.” With that, Angela grabbed McCree by the back of his shirt and dragged him off towards the medbay. She probably had some lecture or presentation about the dangers of smoking stored in the medbay databases already.

McCree’s desperate, pleading gaze settled on Lena. _Help me._

Lena shrugged, and shook her head. _Sorry mate, no can do._

Lena stood there for a little bit and tapped a finger on her chin. Admittedly, Angela had always taken every opportunity to chew out McCree for smoking, especially smoking indoors and around others, but she had seemed particularly eager to make a speedy getaway. So, if Angela didn’t want to talk about it… maybe Fareeha would?

Lena nodded. Yeah, maybe. Now where was Fareeha? She didn’t know the Raptora pilot’s habits nearly as well as she knew Angela’s. The gym? Lena had thought she spotted Fareeha yesterday at the base’s gym. Or maybe her room? Lena thought about it for a little longer, and then whisked off for the gym.

She was in luck. She ran into Fareeha coming out of the changing room, drying her hair with a towel. Lena zipped up right next to her in a flash of blue light. She leaned close, and whispered loudly. “Angie’s real pretty, isn’t she?”

Fareeha nearly tripped.

Lena reached over and patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry luv, I’ll keep your secret. So, how long have you two been seeing each other?”

Fareeha nearly tripped again. “I-It’s not like that! She just wanted to talk and she fell asleep and-”

Lena laughed. “Hey, it’s alright. I remember when I met Em.”

Fareeha seized upon the change of topic. “Em?”

Lena smiled happily. “Yeah! Emily! She’s my girlfriend. Wow, what a catch! I mean, Angie’s good,” she shot a sideways glance at Fareeha, “but my girlfriend’s the best in the world. She’s got the prettiest red hair! And her favorite color, that’s green, er no, more like a kind of teal-y green, matches it really well, and she bakes really good pies, and she’s so patient and cool, and, and…” Fareeha smiled. The joy in Lena’s eyes as she chattered about Emily was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh Lena, you can't just go around saying things like that about other people's girlfriends.


	9. Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an /actual/ date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! Unless I decide to add an illustration at the end or something. I'm a slow artist, so don't bet on that happening any time soon. You can add images to these, right? Aw geez, my inexperience is showing.

Fareeha got to verify the entire conversation personally when Emily herself showed up at the watchpoint the very next day. Lena was right, she did have lovely hair. Lena had come barreling down the driveway cheering the moment she heard that her girlfriend had arrived. Watching them hug out their reunion struck a chord with Fareeha. She was very happy for them, but something felt weird in her heart.  _ I wish I had that _ , the thought bubbled unbidden to the front of her mind. Fareeha blinked and shook her head. She needed to go do some flight practice. It always cleared her mind.  


Later, Angela was drawn from her work when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. In the sky, out of her window, she could see her. Fareeha, in her blue Raptora suit, drilling herself on aerial maneuvers. Angela sat there for several more minutes, before deciding to go outside a take a stroll. It did look nice outside…

Lena found her around the back of the watchpoint, standing still in her long white labcoat, staring at the sky. “Hey doc! What’cha lookin at?” Lena tipped her head back. Fareeha was still flying around in the sky. “Oooh…” She paused. “Yeah, nice view from down here eh? Look at those thigh-” Angela smacked her. Lena laughed. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone.”

As she ran off, Lena decided that perhaps those two needed expert help. From her, of course. Em too. She changed her course. Emily was probably in their room.

 

* * *

 

“They’re both oblivious?” Emily set a cup of steaming tea down on the table and went to go get another.

Lena sighed. “Yeah, I don’t get it. It’s so obvious!”

Emily sat down on the other side of the table. “Maybe they’re nervous? You know, afraid of being rejected.”

Lena picked up her cup and blew at the steam. “Remember when we were like that?”

Emily laughed. “Not really. Aside from the first few weeks, you were really open and direct about your feelings.”

“Exactly! And it worked out great! All this tiptoeing around that they’re doing is driving me nuts!”

“Mm, yeah, it did.” Emily smiled. “Well, what are you proposing? Set up a date for them?”

Lena looked up. “Well, yeah!” She scratched her head. “Don’t suppose we could get their numbers? We need some way to egg ‘em on or give them advice or something…”

Emily grinned. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll talk to Angela, and you can talk to Fareeha then?”

 

* * *

Fareeha fidgeted with her tie. She still wasn’t quite sure exactly how Lena had managed to convince her to do this, but she was having a lot of second thoughts. She looked over her shoulder. At the end of the hall, peeking around the corner, Lena gave her a thumbs up. She then disappeared around the corner. After a few seconds of measured breathing, Fareeha raised her hand and knocked. Somehow, this was scarier than any fight she had ever been in.

Angela thought she might have a heart attack when she heard the knock on her door. Emily peeked out from a storage room of the medbay and gave her a thumbs up. Angela breathed deeply, smoothed her hands over her dress, and opened the door.

Fareeha was absolutely stunning. She was gorgeous in that beautiful black suit, and was additionally holding a rather colorful bouquet of flowers. Her gaze shone with light as she marveled at an equally stunning Angela. Fareeha thought that at that moment, Angela might be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Angela thought likewise about Fareeha. They were both blushing and smiling like a pair of idiots in the hallway. 

“So,” Angela murmured softly, “it’s a date.” She reached up and kissed Fareeha lightly on the nose. Then she laughed, and tugged at her hand. “Come on,  _ mein schatz _ , we are going to be late if we stand here much longer.”

 

* * *

 

Masked and hooded, Ana Amari crouched in her perch, silently watching her daughter’s date through her scope. The way her little Fareeha laughed and shone with happiness melted her heart. Admittedly though, Ana was more than a little concerned about Fareeha’s involvement with the up and coming Overwatch. When she had paid that little visit to Dr. Ziegler many moons ago, she had not been expecting this.

Ana lifted her head to the moon, and closed her eyes with a sigh. Fareeha was all grown up, as much as she hated to admit it. She needed to give her daughter room to follow her own heart. And besides, out of all people, the prestigious Dr. Angela Ziegler was the most equipped for keeping her safe. Ana slung her rifle over her shoulder, and stood. The future would be hard, but they would have each other. And that was good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mein schatz" is a German term of endearment. It translates literally to "my treasure". Its English equivalent is something along the lines of "sweetheart", "my darling", or "honey". German has like 5 different similar phrases for "my love" that all have different connotations, so again, please let me know if I've used the wrong one!


End file.
